Convinience Store Blues
by bisexualcharliedavis
Summary: Drabbles from my late 80s-early 90s downtown au (ft. Charlie/Lawson and past Charlie/Hobart)
1. Convinience Store Blues

_/This is quite short, I know I originally wrote it for tumblr (see my bio) but I liked it so much I thought I might share it here. This is a late80s/early 90s au featuring Charlie/Bill, Bill/Munro (both past) and Charlie/Lawson. Enjoy!_

The whole area is...Run down, is what Lucien thinks, as he follows Bill Hobart in the direction a small store covered in neon signs declaring that the place was open all night. It was a large convenience store, it seemed. Before entering, Bill pulled into a stop and smoothed out his hair briefly, and attempt to wipe away the blood from his nose. He only succeeded in searing it more, not that Lucien would tell him.

Upon entering the shop, he noticed that the only other person in sight was a thirty-ish man behind the counter who was wearing an unfortunately coloured logo emblazoned green and yellow shirt. He thought it may be the intent of the creator to display Australian pride, since he looked as though he'd just stepped out of a mid-January Crazy Clarks catalog. Unfortunately for the man behind the counter, yellow was not an overly flattering colour, and it gave him a sort of sallow look. The cashier was flipping through a magazine intended for middle aged women and blowing a bubble with pink gum. He looks as unimpressed as Lucien feels.

He turns his attention back to Bill, who is going though a large glass fridge for two diet cokes (as promised) and taking them to the counter.

"Charlie!" He announced, as the bored cashier rolled his eyes and pulled his gum back into his mouth.

"Bill." He replied, scanning the items over the pulsing red light and setting them on the counter. "You look like shit."

"Come on Charlie, give us a kiss." Bill unfortunate accent plus his split lip turned his 'give' into a 'giz' Charlie eyes him, and then shakes his head, putting the bottles into bags. Bill pretended to look hurt.

"We're not dating anymore."Charlie reminded him.

"Just thought you might like to kiss someone who doesn't smell like off brand old spice." Bill smells like blood and sweat, but Lucien chooses not to make a comment.

"Oh fuck you, Bill." Charlie said, with perhaps the most eloquent fuck you Lucien has ever heard. "Matthew is a nice guy. And he treats me better then you ever did." Charlie said, as if they've had this argument before. He indicates to Blake.

"This your new squeeze? Finally dump that asshole William did you?"

"William was not an asshole."

"Pardon me. Cheating asshole."

"No. This is Doctor Lucien Blake." When Charlie gives him a smile, it looks more then a little forced. Charlie is missing one of his teeth in his top jaw, Blake notices, a canine. But the rest of his teeth are straight so he assumes he'd had money for braces at some point to give him that otherwise almost perfect grin. "He just opened a practice a couple of streets over. Fixed me up pretty good. Said I'd buy him a drink." Charlie nodded, amused apparently.

"Right." He said, before blowing another disinterested bubble with his gum. "Why?" He asked, looking at Blake now. "Savior complex? Gentrification?" He questioned, leaning on his elbow. Bill looks embarrassed.  
"Charlie..."  
"No, no, it's fine." Lucien assured Bill, "I just want to help people." He told Charlie, trying to give what he hoped was a believable smile. Charlie eyed him, before looking back at Bill.

"Are you going to pay or just stand there blocking the other customers?" Blake frowned slightly. There are no other customers. But he can understand Charlie not exactly wanting to chat with his ex.  
"Can we use your employee discount?"  
"No." Bill handed over two crumpled bills. Charlie gave him back a handful of silver coins, Blake notices that it would have been easier to give him gold and silver coins but Bill hasn't noticed, and is already passing him a bottle, as promised.

Once they're back outside, Bill gives him a slightly apologetic smile.

"He's nicer when you get to know him." Bill said, but Lucien isn't convinced.

"Right..." He said, as they headed back for the surgery. He files Charlie Davis away in his mind under 'possible patients'.


	2. Something Second Hand

/We take a look at Charlie and Lawson's humble abode. (Mil swearing, Blake's perspective)

It's late and the window is broken is what Lucien thinks, as he enters Matthew and Charlie's apartment. Someone, probably Matthew, has attempted to patch it with a blanket and tape. It does a poor job of keeping the pouring rain out of the living room, since someone, probably also Matthew had put a tarp over the small patch stained carpet.

While the living room was small and grimy in a sort of way you just can't scrub out, there was a level of care spent on it. Though all probably second hand or from Harvey Norman sales, the furniture was clean and arranged neatly in the living room surrounding a small television. There were small cardboard coasters on the side table they put their cups on, and a vase of fake flowers sitting on the tv table – dust free. There were cushions on the sofa, ancient floral things that matched the print on the chair. An afgan was draped over the back of the lone single chair, coloured grey and brown. It seemed like someone had put a great deal of care into the little room., and done the best with what they had.

Glancing over, Blake noticed a slightly embarrassed look on Matthew's face, he must have noticed the starring. Despite having been away from the police force for over five years now, he obviously felt bad for not having a home filled with nice things anymore. He was probably thinking of the surgery. He cleared his throat. "The flowers are a nice touch."

"They're succulents."

"I thought they were fake."

"Nope. Charlie looks after them." So it seemed that the grim convince store clerk had a soft side after all. Speaking of Charlie, Lucien had been of the opinion that he would be meeting with both of them for lunch. Charlie, possibly sensing it, was out and carrying a tray of small sandwiches. They looked quite nice, possibly even delicious. He set them on the side table, and took a seat on the ancient looking floral couch.

"Ham and cheese, just ham, just cheese and chutney."

"Chutney?"  
"We didn't have any cucumbers." Charlie said, grimly. Matthew is still standing, having gone to tend to their makeshift window. Lucien took a seat in a nearby chair with the afgan, not getting a feeling that Charlie wanted to be sat next to. He took one of Charlie's sandwiches. The bread was slightly stale, but it was otherwise fine. A few moments pass, Blake turns to study Lawson.

He was a tall man in a grey shirt, although the shirt, though of high quality once was now thin and faded. It was easy enough to see why Charlie would fancy him. While he wasn't attractive in a traditional sense, there was certainly something about him. He had a face where you could have told Blake that he was a hard arsed police officer, and he'd have believed you. Alternatively you could tell him that he was a crime lord and he still would have believe you. It was hard to see someone so daunting now as someone who was a week ago having a HIV test. He's not sure why that is. Maybe he just looks heterosexual? Does heterosexual have look?

"He's spoken for." Charlie said, from the sofa, giving Blake an amused smile that showed off his missing tooth, but there is something cold in his eyes: ' BACK OFF ' Interesting Charlie would be the insecure one in a relationship.

"Sorry, just, lost in thought." Charlie kept smiling, but took a second sandwich for himself. Lawson finished fiddling with the window, and sat next to Charlie, draping a warm and casual arm over his shoulder. Possessive? Maybe. Lucien isn't sure. Could just be assuring Charlie that he wasn't Hobart and he wasn't going to leave him.

"Did you make tea?" he asks, leaning over Charlie to take a ham sandwich.

"No."

"You're always the one telling me we need to offer tea when people come over." People come over? He hadn't really considered that Charlie and Matthew might have friends.

"We don't have any fuckin' tea bags." Charlie said, speaking with his mouth full,

"Where did they go?"  
"You drank 'em."

"Me?"

"Staying up all night doing God knows what." Charlie continued, shaking his head. "He never bloody sleeps." Charlie said, looking at Blake now. "Just stays up and drinks tea." Blake finds himself amused more then anything else. Charlie folds one leg over the other. His pants are second hand, and a little too long in the leg. Matthew frowns at Charlie, and rolls his eyes. He doesn't feel compelled to defend himself. It's an amusingly domestic conversation and it reminds him of things Mei Lin would say about him.

"Try telling him if he doesn't come to bed then you'll start staying up with him." Blake advised. "With your work hours I don't think he'd take to kindly to it." He winked. Charlie replied by giving him a surprisingly genuine smile. It's lopsided, but warm, as if he were trying to keep all the sun in the world there. It was easy to see why Matthew would like him.

"Don't I get a say in this?" Matthew asked, giving them both a concerned look. Charlie replied by giving him a kiss on the cheek.


	3. The Butchers Aprentice

_/I finally finished Overlooked by seven-dragons (good fic! Not often i say that about het pairings in fics so u know its good) and it inspired me to want to write for Alice (maybe finish that mattie/alice wip :p) Anyway, this time, we meet Alice Harvey, or as Charlie calls her: The Doc (Blake's perspective, minor Charlie/Lawson)_

* * *

It was another week until he saw Charlie again. It was a fairly average afternoon, and Jean had sent him to purchase more tea bags for the surgery. Deciding to walk rather then drive, since it was daytime and he was unlikely to be jumped at this hour, he took the long way to the grocers. Halfway there he saw Charlie turn into a show that the neon declared was a butcher.

A butcher? He'd just assumed Charlie and Lawson would be buying meat from a grocery store trying to save money. He supposes, that Charlie and Lawson are just as entitled to nice meat as everyone else. Maybe they wanted a nice roast or something. Figuring he could say hello to Charlie and inquire about Matthew, he followed him inside.

The butchers shop was clean and stainless steel. There was an area for the customers with tiled floors, a rack of spices ranging from chilli to lemon, a cooler with pre packaged meats, on top of which was a large plastic clever stuck into a large plastic chopping board. The wall on the left had a large painting of a cow with the choice cuts illustrated. The ribs had a small sticker denoting it as ' the Doctors pick'

There was a large glass freezer that separated the butcher from the customers, that was filled with various cuts of meat, some he knew, some he didn't. There was also a small selection of salads, stuffed olives and feta cheese. Charlie was standing in front of the salads, carefully examining them, then tossing him a glance. He nodded hello. "Lucien."

"Good morning, Charlie!" He said, cheerfully.

"Have you come for the best meat in downtown?"

"That good, huh?"

"Well, I think so." Charlie replied. "Have you met the Doc before?" Lucien shook his head. Charlie gave him a slightly tight smile that nearly made it to his eyes. Blake's eyes are again drawn to the missing tooth. If Charlie notices, he says nothing. "If you like Matthew you'll love her." He assured Blake, stepping up to the counter and banging on the bell a few times.

"Doc!" He called out. "You got customers!"

Doc, or as her name tag read, Alice Harvey steps out from somewhere out of sight. She was average height, and slightly older then he'd been expecting. Her hair had been bleached once, but was now mostly grown out to her original brown, and was styled into a fashionable perm that was a little grown out, and was tied tightly back. Like Charlie, she was wearing her uniform. Unlike Charlie, who still looked like January personified, Alice looked considerably more stylish. Her shirt was black with a white trim, covered by a green-ish disposable apron, which had a small amount of blood on it, as well as equally bloody gloves. Charlie is not put off by this, so he assumes this must be a usual state for her.

"I'm not a doctor yet, Charlie." She reprimed him, disposing of her gloves into an unseen bin, followed by her apron.

"Yeah but you will be." He insisted. "First person from 'round here to ever be a doctor." Charlie evidently had a great deal of respect for her.

"Who's your friend?" She asked, snapping on new gloves.

"This is doctor Lucien Blake. He's the man running that little practice, that new one."

"Ah, right." She said, "So, gentrification or savior complex?" She's still talking to Charlie but Lucien is sort of annoyed a being ignored.

"Neither. I want to help people." They both throw him a glance.

"Savior complex." They both said in unison. "Charlie it's not that I don't enjoy talking to you, I do, but I also have a cow to cut up back there so. The usual?"  
"I think so." Charlie said, as Alice began putting handfuls of ham into a plastic bag. "Is the seafood salad good?"

"I made it, of course it's good."

"Well I don't like the ones Gareth makes. He uses to much celery." Charlie said. "I'll take a small, if you please." He said. Lucien watched Alice's expert hands wrap the plastic in white butchers paper.

"Gareth?"  
"Gareth Orten. My horrible boss."

"Ah."

It's an interesting exercise in people watching to watch Charlie and Alice talk. Like they've done it a hundred times before. Charlie also puts a small jar labeled Chilli Salt onto the counter top. Alice raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't think spice would be your thing." Lucien found himself saying.  
"It's not for me. Matthew likes it." Charlie defended himself.

"For a moment I thought you were going to put it on your seafood salad." Lucien said with a smile. Charlie rolls his eyes and produces a debit card from a cracked leather wallet that looks to be made in the seventies.

As he pays, Alice put his things into a plastic bag and passes it to him.  
"When are you going back to school?" She asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"When I can afford it."

"You know that -"

"I don't like charity." Alice rolls her eyes, and turns to Blake.

"You?"

Torn from his fly on the wall position, Blake is stalled. "I'll take a medium sea food salad and two uh...Cuts of steak." Alice nods, going to retrieve her spoon for the sea food salad.

"School?"

"What about it?"

"I assume you saw Matthew's medical history."  
"I did."  
"Someone had to look after him." Lucien decides to let it drop and looks to Alice, who is wrapping two pieces of steak up tightly. She looks dedicated.  
"Where are you training...Doc?" He asks. She studied him for a moment.

"I take courses at night." She replied, setting it down.

"You should work at his surgery." Charlie said, idly.

"I don't want to work with people, you know that Anyway. I'm getting out of here as soon as I can. " Alice replied. "I don't know why you won't." Charlie shrugged.  
"I go where Matthew goes." Lucien watched as Charlie tugged the bag up his forearm. Blake handed his card over to Alice, who scanned it through.

"See you 'round, Doc!" Charlie said, heading out, not one for goodbyes. Blake follows in suit, after giving Alice a smile she returned with a grimace.


	4. A Spiteful Spiral

We meet a young Charlie just after his break from Bill, and what went down after. Warnings for plenty of swearing, and references to drug use.

* * *

There were two things on Charlie Davis's mind right now. One, getting the fuck away from Bill Hobart, the other, finding a fucking heroin dealer in this shitty suburb. The back of his mind is playing what he just saw on repeat. Bill with Munro, Munro will Bill, on their bed. Their fucking bed, where they sleep at night, together. He jammed his hands further into his pockets, and glared at a woman with three earrings in one ear when she glanced at him. She turns away, her little cross earring hitting against her neck.

He has his hands jammed so deep into his pockets that he call feel the seems on his knuckles. Gus hangs out around here some place, he was his dealer when he needed it, to unwind, relax, surely no one would begrudge him that, especially now. Charlie has never caught a break in his whole freakin life though, so he doesn't know why he expected to get one now, as a banged up car pulls up next to him on the curve, following him.

He knows that car right away. Matthew Lawson. He first met Matthew some fifteen years ago, in the seventies, when he'd been out of it more then in, trying to pretend he wanted to live. He only remembers it hazily, Lawson asking him to get clean and not arresting him then and there, and ever since, the bastard has tried to be some kind of guardian angel. Even since leaving the force, Lawson has been a constant frustration to him, even if he does mean well. The window rolls down. Lawson is still driving next to him. "The fuck do you want?"

"Nice to see you as well, Charlie. You alright?"

"Piss off." Charlie is far to upset and tired to pretend to be nice. He just finished a night shift, and he came home to find the only person who he'd thought gave a shit about him fucking the one person that he truly despised.

"You don't look alright." No. He doesn't. He has a red puffy face from both the cold and the tears that have started escaping his traitorous eyes.

"I told you to piss off!"

"If I do, are you gonna go get high?"

"No."  
"Don't believe you."

"Fuck off."

"You got somewhere to stay tonight? Thought you were living with Bill?" Bill is the bartender where Lawson bounces. He knows they're meant to be in love. He knows Charlie is looking for Gus to by heroin to black out in a hotel room some place that charges by the hour. He's fucked if he talks to Matthew, probably just as fucked if he isn't.

"You got somewhere to stay?" For one horrible moment, Charlie want to protect him, this kindness he has, in him He wants to wrap up all his concern and worry and kindness in brown paper and keep it close forever. But he can't. He yields. It's cold, he's tired, and if he plays his cards right Matthew might make him some coffee.

"No."

"Get in." Charlie does. Matthew has the heat up high. He's shivering, but he hadn't noticed. His coat is old, falling apart on him, but he still wears it, since they hadn't had any money to buy anything new. The drive is silent. Matthew was never a man of many words and neither is Charlie. Eventually, they pull up at a crappy apartment complex near Charlie's work. Matthew welcomes him inside, and he declines to take off his coat. It's only marginally warmer in here than it is outside, but Matthew putting the heat on begins warming his frozen bones, as does the cheap whiskey being given to him in a small glass. He downs it in one go and it burns.

He thinks about when his landlord turned the heat off and he and Bill got drunk so they couldn't feel it. It's cheap and shitty whiskey, he's not much of a whiskey drinker, but he doubts a bouncer can afford top shelf. He is given a second glass and he takes his time now, setting it on the table with no visible coasters and little circles all over it.

"What happened?" He asks, as if he has some right Before Charlie can bite back, there is a gentle hand on his shoulder and that was the moment he broke.

It comes out in a river. Just tears and crying, on and on. He can't stop. Matthew takes pity on him and tugs him into a hug. Charlie has not had a lot of kind touches in his life, his father gone, his mother worked and when she couldn't work, she drank, Bill, the only person he'd thought gave a shit about him wasn't big on soft touches, so this, this touching, it was new. And it was good. He's not really one for crying either, having learned young you can cry as much as you want it doesn't change facts. And the facts was that Bill was cheating on him, with William fucking Munro.

The facts was that he'd been going to by heroin for the first time in six months, to put himself out until tomorrow, where he would go see Bill and then send himself back into the spiral he'd fought so damn hard to escape from. The facts was that Matthew Lawson has been looking out for him, even now. The facts was that he was sitting on a couch, in Matthew Lawson, the ex cop who was now a bouncer and lived in a shitty appartment,'s arms. The facts was that he was fucked.


	5. Years Gone By

_/i have a feeling this version of the fic is missing a chapter. might get two chapters today if it is. this chapter, we meet Frank Carlyle. Mentions of drug use._

The death of Charlie Davis's father changed a lot of things in Ballarat. It ruined William Munro's faith in the police, it was the beginning of Matthew Lawson's downward spiral and it sent his son onto a life of drugs.

He used to keep an eye on Charlie. The boy would meet him at a twenty four hour restaurant once a month, to give him details about various gangs and people supplying drugs for a meal and twenty dollars. He wished he could help more. But how. Charlie was resistant to even the idea of getting off heroin.

Sitting across from him in the booth, thin fingers clasped tightly around his cardboard cup, he looks like the very epitome of a drug addict. Pale, scabs litter his face and arms, his nails are week, and he's missing one totally off one of his fingers. His clothes are old and worn, his hair is unstyled but he still carries himself with a small amount of very battered pride, somehow. He sniffed, and took yet another tiny sip of his drink.

"You sure you're alright?"  
"Yes."  
"Charlie, you know I care."  
"Yes, yes."  
"What's on your mind?" Charlie looks back up at him, his eyes are deep whirlpools of emotion that he'd refused to let the drugs take from him. Frank wondered for how long. He pulled one of his fries in half before stuffing it into his mouth. He still looks thoughtful, even if his eating etiquette needs a little refining.

"I met a guy, few months back. He wants to be exclusive."

"Maybe it'll be good for you, a boyfriend?" Homosexuality was only just decriminalized. He wonders if Charlie keeps up with the news enough to know that.

"I guess so." Pause. He picks at a scab. "I don't want to pull him down with me, you know?"  
"He's okay with you using?"  
"He paid for my last hit so I guess so." Frank cant help the twist of his mouth. Charlie was, in all honesty, little more then a teenager. He felt bad about this whole thing, really. Charlie looked out the window, and stood up.

"Thanks. For the food. He's here now so I..."  
"I get it. Thanks for the information. Same time next week?" He asked, trying to stay cheerful. Charlie gave a small shrug, and headed for the door.

…

A lot went down in this part of Ballarat, he thought, lifting the police tape so he could go speak to the witness. The shooting had occurred at a convenience store open twenty four hours, the witness was the man working the register during the graveyard shift. Apparently his room mate had been on his way to collect him and take him home.

Turning the corner, he noted that the attendant was not, in fact, any old man. Charlie was sitting on the back of the ambulance, wearing a shock blanket and drinking water from a plastic cup. An older man was sitting next to him, holding a cane, and with cheekbones that could possibly be used to open letters. An uncle perhaps? He's a lot older then the type Charlie used to hang around with.

Charlie essentially fell off the planet are he entered his relationship with the mystery man. He'd stopped bringing him information. It was like he'd vanished off the face of the earth. That was years ago, apparently, he was okay. Frank always thought he'd either been killed and well hidden or skipped town. He looked better then he had, no longer so skinny, still pale, but a lot healthier. His scabs had all healed, his skin looked healthy, he actually looked like he was healthy, something Frank hadn't seen since the boy had been a child.

He's a little surprised he can recognize him, but it's probably because he is the splitting image of his father, and everyone loved Charlie's father, didn't they? He is still watching him and his uncle as they sat. After a moment, Charlie whispers to him, and the older gentleman pulls Charlie up under his chin. Then he reconizes him, Matthew Lawson. Older now, much older then he had been. He had a sort of scar on his forehead, and apparently a limp now as well. And he'd gotten back in contact with Charlie. Interesting.

"Charlie. Long time no see."  
"You know him?" Matthew.

"Yeah, I used to give him information and the like."  
"Oh." Lawson seems to have accepted him as safe so he takes a step up to them. Charlie, while healthy, was still skinny and possibly in shock so he supposes he could take him easily, but Lawson was still big and still scary, even if he wasn't a cop anymore. If Charlie had become Lawson's problem then he wasn't going to risk getting hurt, not yet, anyway.

Lawson still has his arm around Charlie's shoulders with a rather set look on his face. He's holding onto his cane with his other hand, but tightly, as if he were prepared to hit him with it. Maybe he would. Frank isn't sure.

"What happened?" He asked, producing his notepad. Charlie pulled his blanket a little tighter around his shoulder.

"I was working, 'bout to pack it in, and that shit head storms in, gun and all, saying that he was gonna take all the money and kill me if I didn't." He frowns and allows Lawson to pull him incrementally closer. "I pressed the silent alarm. I fought with him over the counter. Eventually, I managed to wrangle the gun and I held him at gun point 'till the boys in blue decided to show up." Lawson gives him a little frown, the way Charlie pronounced boys in blue was clearly aimed as an insult, or at least, it wasn't pleasant.

"Alright. Charlie, I'm going to need to ask you a few questions."

"Sure you are."He grumbled.

He sent Charlie to go speak with one of the other officers, remaining with Lawson.  
"How did you and Charlie meet?" He asked, casually.

"At a drugs bust in the early eighties."  
"And have you been room mates long?"

"Five years. Did you know him long?"  
"Only a year or so. He was a good kid, I think. Under the junkie."

"Yeah." Lawson said, not elaborating.

"How's Pete?"  
"Dead."  
"Oh."

"Died in eighty four. Overdosed."

"That's…I'm so sorry." Matthew gave him a slightly sideways look, but nodded. He pulled his lips tightly for a long moment.

"Thanks." He said, finally. "Thank you, for looking out for him, back then."  
"What makes you think I looked out for him?" Lawson tapped the side of his nose twice. Frank gave a small frown, but didn't question it. "I knew his father."  
"Didn't we all?" Matthew asked. "Everyone knew his dad. No one knows Charlie Davis."  
"Not even you?"  
"He might share my bed, but I suspect there is a lot in his head he'll never share with anyone." Share his bed? He wonders if Lawson was the one he went exclusive with all those years ago. He's not sure though. Lawson doesn't seem like the type to cheat, or fork out for drugs. Must have met him later, then.

"You're okay with that?"

"I am." Frank nods, and both of them look at Charlie, who comes back over.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked Matthew. "They want me to come in again tomorrow." Lawson nodded.  
"You'll have to take the car." Charlie nods, and nods at Frank. Frank nods back.

"Try and get some sleep." He advised Charlie, who rolled his eyes.

"Unlikely." He said, as he and Lawson turned, and headed away. Frank looked back at the crime scene and realized he was going to have to talk to the poor sod who tired to attack Charlie Davis.


	6. He I Choose

A/N: Discussions of consent. Charlie and Bill talk about their relationship while Bill tries to win him back.

...

Charlie stepped outside his door, and closed it quietly.

"Reminds me of the old days, you and me. Sneaking around." Charlie rolls his eyes, with none of the affection that the gesture used to hold.

"Well?"

"Why are you sneaking around?"

"As if Matthew would approve of you and I alone."

"Why do you care about his approval?" Charlie sighs deeply. Bill twists up his mouth.

"Because I know that I don't approve of you and I alone." Bill wrung his hands in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. Charlie is leaning on the door now, and he looks just like how he used to when he was young. Somehow. His slightly too good for a heroin addict posture. Those blue eyes, the defensive folded arms, he looked like how Bill remembered him.

When they'd dated, Charlie had never bothered with styling his hair, and had scabs and scars on his face, but now his face was almost clear, a few pits marking his cheeks but otherwise you wouldn't know. He'd gone to great lengths to disguise where he came from, and that Bill could understand.

"I want another chance." Charlie watched him from the doorframe, his eyes scanning, Bill could practically see his brain ticking around, trying to come up with what he should say next. Bill beats him too it. "Leave him, come with me."

"What?"

"Leave him. Leave Matthew. Leave this shitty apartment block. Leave your shitty job. Come with me." Nothing, so Bill continues his pitch. "Think about it, Charlie." Bill said, taking both of Charlie's hands into his own. "You work, every single day. You work two jobs. He hasn't worked in over a year. You're supporting dead weight. Come with me, I'll take care of you. I promise you that you will never have to work again in your life." Bill reached out and took Charlie's hands into his own. "Come with me, Charlie! Weren't we happy, together?" He questioned.

Charlie pulled his hands away, and kept looking into Bill's eyes, face impassive.

"Last time you said that to me, you were passing me a spoon and a lighter." He commented, and Bill takes note of his clothing. Charlie is wearing a well worn coat over a hooded jumper. He can't make eyecontact, because he feels ashamed.

"I love you."  
"You love the idea of me." Charlie said, softly, and Bill knows. "I love Matthew, Bill. I've loved him for the last five years, and I intend to keep loving him until I can't love anymore. You don't need another chance, Bill. I'm not upset about the cheating anymore." Charlie said, not moving.

"Do you love him? Or so you love that he let you into his house. You don't owe him anything, Charlie!"

"Don't yell. My neighours don't like us enough as it is." Charlie said, rubbing his face with his hand and then folded them. "When I spent my first week here, I kept expecting him to take me to bed. I kept working myself up to the fact that he was going to take something from me, and I kept thinking I was going to let him. But he didn't." Charlie's lip turned up, slightly. "And I asked him if he wanted to go out because I thought that's what he wanted." He's still leaning, sharing his story. A story Bill suspects he's the first and the last to hear. "He did, but he didn't anything from me. He didn't kiss my neck, or insist I owed him anything. He thanked me for the evening, and asked if I wanted something to drink before bed." Pause, consideration. "The first time I went out with you, you took me to bed, and I was so sore the next morning I thought you had hurt me forever."

The pause is so thick it could have been cut with a knife.  
"When I asked Matthew if he wanted to date me, if he wanted to be mutually exclusive with him, he asked me if that was what I wanted. I said it was. He told me I didn't owe him anything, I told him I know. He kissed me for the first time and I swear on my life, before that moment, I might as well never have been kissed, it was that soft, and that gentle. The first time you kissed me I was so high that I didn't even kiss back, and you bit my lip until I was bleeding. I only knew because you told me after." Charlie is looking down at the carpet now, telling Bill his thoughts.

"I asked him if he would have sex with me. He told me not if I didn't want to. I told him I might never want to. He told me told me that was fine. He didn't care about that. He just wanted to be with me. And you know what? He never has. He's never so much as kissed me without making sure it was okay first. It's been five years now, and I was sure, I was positive that he was going to insist, and he never has. I asked him why, when every other relationship I've ever had has revolved around my body, making a profit from it, taking enjoyment in it, giving me things to put into it, why he has never done anything like that." Bill actually feels sick now. "He told me something that no one ever told me before. He told me that my body belonged to me. He told me that no one had the right to touch it but me. It dawned on me, then, that Matthew gave me something no one else ever had. He gave me the right to own my own body, to connect to that part of me, that part I shut off. That part I was scared off." He looked over to Bill, those eyes deep as an ocean, and just as sad. "And you know, maybe one I will have sex with him. Maybe one day I'll be ready to open that part of myself. But you know what? Maybe I won't. And He'll be okay with that." Bill waited, Charlie looked like he was figuring out how to phrase something.

"For all the times I can remember getting into your bed, there is a time where I don't remember even saying that I wanted to." He told Bill, deadpan. "I was high, and you took advantage of that." Bill frowned deeply.

"What if he never works again."  
"I told you, Bill. I don't care about the money. I would live in a box under a bridge with him."

"You're always so busy with work.'

"I know. Bill, I know this is hard for you to understand, but I like to work. I've always liked to work. I like my job, obviously it's not the job I want but I don't mind. I like to support Matthew. I like looking after him." Bill looks at him, eyes still wet.

"I love you."  
"You love a submissive drug addict who would have done anything to feed his addiction. I'm not him anymore. I'm clean, and you know what, Bill? For the first time in my rotten fucking life, I have something good. I love him, Bill. I don't know much about love, or healthy relationships, but I know that I give a shit about him. I care about you." He said, and leaned in, pressing a kiss to Bill's cheek. "You were my first love, and I know you will have a special place in my heart forever, but we can't ever be how we were." He gave Bill a tiny, hesitant smile, before re-entering his apartment, leaving Bill in the hallway, tears on his cheeks.


End file.
